Saturday 28 December 2019

The Woeful Vampire

by Nick Gisburne

Thy skin is fragile to my touch
I kiss thee
The perfume of thy skin fills my nostrils
I hunger, thirsting for the bite
Dawn will not save thy perfection
Tonight the vampire will drink of thee
I take what is mine
Yield to me
And it is so
These knife-like teeth pierce thee
Deep into thy flesh
My thirst is quenched
My hunger stilled
Yet still these torments shall return
Tomorrow will bring the same agony
That most urgent of desires
Driven to insanity
Thus shall it always be
For thou art apple
Food of this vegetarian vampire
My shame is bitter-sweet
As my form becomes fruit bat
I flap dementedly
And leave thee, rotting to thy core

Another old one, found in my year 2000 archive file.